


Under Two Moons

by WhippedMeringue



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Breeding, Choose Your Own Ending, Consensual, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dubious Consent, F/M, If you so choose to read that ending, Knotting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Werewolf Sex, obviously, you get to pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhippedMeringue/pseuds/WhippedMeringue
Summary: The Dragonborn ran from Aela and Skjor when they offered her the gift of Hircine. Her choice did not sit well with the Daedric Prince. Now, he comes to her with another decision to make, one she cannot make lightly.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hircine, Hircine (Elder Scrolls)/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 394





	1. A Choice

The highway from Solitude to Markarth was littered with bandits and Reachmen. Every hour on the road required hopping down from her horse, swinging her sword until she either scared them off or killed them. It was tedious, so the Dragonborn was left to either climb chilly highlands and mountains or drag her horse through the mud. She chose to be cold instead of dirty.

Thankfully, just past the village of Dragon Bridge she found a cluster of hot springs, which is where she set up camp as the sun lowered in the west. Once she had fed her horse and pitched her tent, she peeled off her dusty leathers and soaked her sore rump under the cosmos. She turned pruney under Secunda and Masser, which gave the rolling highlands of the reach a silver glow in tandem even though neither was at full. Only when she emerged into the steaming air did she sense that something was amiss.

Shadows whipped around in the brush. Like a fool, she had left her sword with her gear, taking only a dagger to the bath. There was an orc encampment not far off, but they never favored a night raid. Dishonorable Reachmen, searching out easy prey? Or worse, wolves and werebeasts between her and her unguarded horse? She fought to ignore the evening chill as she took a low stance on the wet ground. Her meager spell work would finally be tested.

“Well met, Dragonborn.” The voice was the growl of every animal at once; the warning rumble of a bear and the mating keen of a fox. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at all, sending supernatural chills down her arms. Dark magic. She jerked to look behind her but found nothing.

She flipped the dagger in her hand, trying to intimidate. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

“Were you expecting me?” Was the dark chuckle coming from the left or the right?

Wind whipped up the tall grass and brush, but nothing formed a shape that was solid or sure. “Hard to expect something you can’t see.”

Suddenly, the creature was behind her, dragging claws along her back, but as soon as she went to jab with her blade, they were gone. She murmured in Dovah to summon the auras of life around her, but none were to be found. It wasn’t a surprise. By then, she knew that her visitor was not a creature of Nirn. The power that saturated the air could only be one thing, and it was the one thing she could not kill.

“In time.” The voice was suddenly the purr of a lynx, making her lower her blade against her will. Large hands squeezed around her waist, and hot breath ran across her hair. “I had planned on visiting you in your bedroll, but your skin in the moonlight was far too tempting. Such a wild thing.” A rough and inhuman tongue ran up her neck.

She swallowed hard as the hands and tongue disappeared, although she knew that whatever was hunting her was just out of sight. And she was being hunted. “Who are you? You are not Sanguine, I know that bastard. But daedra don’t--”

“Daedra don’t visit a mortal woman and leave her living?” She could hear the smirk. Even if it wasn’t human, it was smug, and she was starting to suspect what smug creature it was.

“So you understand my concerns?”

His laughter formed ripples along the surface of the spring, pushing the rivulets of steam into her. “Do not fear, little dovahkiin. I wish you no harm.” As she breathed in the hot, wet air, a heavy scent filled her nose: spruce, blood, and musk. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Ignoring the unbidden desire that had started to pool in her belly, she forced her blade up again, baring her teeth. “I’m afraid I didn’t pack a bedroll for two.”  
“There’s no need for it. I will be taking you here on the ground.” The daedra’s voice was like wind howling through the trees in a summer storm, demanding that she bend.

“Hard to fuck me when I’m stabbing you, Lord,” she spat into the dirt.

The snarl behind her was both fire and ice in her veins. “Such an ungrateful whelp. You know what I am and yet you act with such impudence, while I think only of granting your desires.”

She dared to scoff. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“Difficult to believe that one as powerful as I would seek to mate with you?” His hands? Claws? She couldn’t be sure, but they gripped again at her, finding a hold low on her hips.

“Difficult to believe that you give any regard to my desire.”

“You know, I had considered transforming you to a hind, but it would be a shame to change you from this shape.” She was pulled back until her naked body was flush with something broad and covered with thick, coarse fur. She thought back to Aela in the Underforge, to Farkas just past the bars in Dustman’s Cairn, trying to hide his bloodlust. The memory sent a pulse between her thighs. “No, to rut you in all your glory, I will take a shape to please you.”

“And what if I don’t want you in any shape?” A snarl bristled against her shoulder, the feeling of a drooling snout lingering over. “You cannot lie to me. Even across the Reach I could smell your cunt.”

The filthy word bit at her control, making her expose her neck further to the teeth she knew were bared there. “It is Spring, Lord. I imagine you smell the beasts, not me.”

Sharp claws dug into her side as copper and musk assaulted her nose. “Do not insult me,” hissing like an adder, “I am Lord of the Hunt. I can smell prey and hunter across Nirn if I so choose. And I smell a wet cunt and a ripe womb between your legs.” His words made her sex ache against her will, and she no longer felt the mountain chill. No, everything inside and out was on fire.

“You would take me unwilling?”

Constantly shifting form, he nosed at her neck. “If I found you unwilling, yes. But I can taste your slick in the air. You are more than ready to take my seed.” He punctuated the words by rolling her hips into his, and she could feel something firm, hot and wet against her lower back.

“Your seed?”

He chuckled at the waiver in her voice. “My kin all seek that you pledge your soul to their service. They try to ply you with trinkets and gifts. I offered you such a gift, power unmatched, but you deny your place in the Hunt.” Again, she thought of Aela. She had left her shield sister in the dark, and as soon as Jorvaskar was out of sight, she had kept Whiterun at a distance. She should have known there were some things that once they came to the surface, they wouldn’t be pushed back under.

“Until you join my pack, I cannot be certain that I will have you in my realm. But what is certain is that you will give me a servant.” She didn’t dare to look down, but she could feel claws gently dragging low across her abdomen. “You will form one for me in your belly.”

She turned, slowly, gaping first at his words and then at the sight of him. The Daedric Prince towered over her. The spire of his height was extended further by the great crown of antlers that protruded from the white bone of a stag’s skull where a face should have been, eyes an endless void. Bare muscles rippled across his form, skin absent any wound—no creature could injure him—but he bore the markings of a whitetail along his chest and shoulders. His hands were capped with black claws, sharp and caked with what was certainly blood. Finally, he stood on massive dark haunches, greater than any wolf or werebeast.

Hircine. Lord of the Hunt.

“My form arouses you, little dovah? Or my words?” He had let her turn, but not escape his grasp. An arm snaked firmer around her waist while his other hand tilted her head up. The way he cocked his mask made it clear he was inspecting his prey. There were no words to offer him. If she denied him, he would call her bluff, take her anyways, but she didn’t want to encourage him either. So she stayed still, hoping her glare was connecting with something behind the dark shadows of the skull.

The silent protest pleased him, if the way he gently ran his rough thumb over her bottom lip, purring, was any indication. He dropped the hand at her waist down over the curve of her ass, nudging her to press against him, to feel the heat he radiated. Daedra were known to share characteristics and motivations with Mer and Men, the typical quests for power, control, and fun, but always in twisted extremes. Despite his words, the way he ground his massive bulge against her lower belly took her by surprise. The lust of a daedra was a wicked and terrifying possibility.

“I will have you. If you accept my offer, I will give you the perfect mate, please you endlessly in the form you desire. If you resist,” his voice was hypnotizing and terrible, pushing obeisance into her like a poison, “I will take you however and in whatever form I desire. Perhaps all of them.”

Secunda’s halved-form spoke of decisions while Masser’s waxing belly whispered change. Would she give herself to the Deadric Prince and hope for mercy, or would she hope that Akatosh’s blessing would save her, let her escape? If she relented, she knew that he wouldn’t abandon her until her belly was round, and probably not even then. If she ran from him, she would either escape forced motherhood, sparing herself and the child, or be overtaken by him another day.

“Well, Dragonborn?” He pinched her chin, taking a deep breath of her scent, waiting for her choice.

She knew what she had to do.


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this filthy smut fest while I study open-source license law.

“Not much of a choice, Lord Hircine. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do for the next nine months.” Her mind flitted through the endless plight of the civil war and Alduin, to the pleas of the Greybeards. They would understand her predicament, certainly?

The clawed finger at her chin stroked the soft skin of her neck as if she were some domestic shorthair. “I enjoy your wit, little dovah. I hope it is a trait you give my young squire.”

What had looked to be a mat of brown fur at his neck shifted, changing to a fine mantle before her eyes. His entire form seemed to shift slightly, more human but not quite. His voice still echoed with the creatures of the night as he brought his lips to her ears. 

“Now, let me show you pleasures unfathomable.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nerves bubbling at the knowledge of what she agreed to. She had to cope the only way she knew how: “I certainly hope they are fathomable. I do not wish to go mad.”

A warm sound of amusement rolled against her as his almost-human hands began exploring the contours of her frame. “Perhaps I wish to drive you to madness, little dovah, ruined for anything but me.” His possessive words melted her bones, forcing her to lean against him. “But do not worry, you and my pup will be safe, I promise.”

The daedra pulled back his bone mask just enough to reveal a set of soft human lips. The hand at the small of her back pressed her forward, urging her mouth to his own. It seemed so unnatural, the gentle gesture of affection, but she leaned in. 

His lips teased, peppering her first with soft pecks before teething at her own. Her hands found silky and thick hair at the base of his skull. As she twined the locks around her fingers, he urged her into a deeper embrace, flicking his tongue inside her mouth and sucking on hers when she dared to venture. He tasted like rainfall in the trees, of smoke from a late-night campfire. 

Although she was quickly panting, her companion was still and smug when he pulled away. She wondered if he even needed to breathe. “I see why you mortals enjoy kissing. Your mouth pleases me.” He didn’t waste time drawing her back, pulling the strength from her muscles with his lips. His fingertips glided across her skin, slick from adrenaline and the steam of the spring, the motions so specific she would have thought he was lettering runes into her.

His own skin hummed with chaotic energy beneath her hands. Like much of the rest of the creature before her, it was unfamiliar in texture. It was soft and silky like the belly of a newborn calf, but underneath lay unyielding cords of muscle. 

Dissatisfied with the limited territory he had claimed, Hircine ran his tongue along her jaw and started teething at her neck. The sharpness brought a thrill despite his assurances that she would come to no harm. She moaned as he licked a stripe from the juncture of her neck and shoulder to just below her ear. 

“Such lovely sounds you mortals make when mating. Sing for me again.” He mimicked the motion on the opposite side of her neck, causing her to dig her nails into his shoulders as she moaned once more. 

One of his clawed hands had begun to grope her breast, circling the perimeter of her nipple, but not giving her the satisfaction of caressing it. She tried to wriggle it into his grip, but he chortled in response. 

“Patience, little dovah. I am still deciding where I wish to taste you next.” The daedric prince abandoned his grasp on her breast altogether, but her grief was short-lived; his mouth enveloped the pink bud. She almost swore as he laved his tongue around the sensitive flesh. Were it not for the antler threatening to remove her eye, she would have been in pure ecstasy. 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” she gasped as his teeth tugged gently, “but could you remove your helm?” The daedra’s impatient growl changed to laughter as he noticed her hands pushing the tips of the Stag’s antlers from her face.

The tone of his voice felt like mulled wine and honey. “I suppose they do limit the range of movement.” Moving away from the Dragonborn’s chest to stand at his full height, he pulled the skull back over dark chestnut hair to reveal a face not belonging to Mer nor Man. 

His features were longer, like an elf’s, but his golden eyes and aquiline nose were human in shape, and his lips were devastatingly full. “Is this better, mortal?” From his smirk he knew how his looks affected, but she nodded all the same. “Good. Let me return to my feast in peace.”

His mouth returned to her breasts, running his rough tongue over the valley between them and back to her nipple. While he suckled one until it was tender to the touch, his free hand tugged and prodded the other. Every pull made her whimper and gasp and soon the only thing keeping her upright was his grip on her waist. 

Slick heat was pooling in between her thighs, fraught with need for his touch. It wasn’t just his perfect ministrations over her body, but his smell that made her want to spread her legs as wide as necessary to accommodate him indefinitely. Like all the other creatures of Skyrim, he had the unrelenting pheromones of Spring. His musk was a demand for a mate, and her own body ached to submit. 

“Please, Lord Hircine,” she nibbled at the tip of his pointed ears as she pushed her hips against him.

His words tumbled into her heart from where his mouth was latched over it. “What, little dovah? What do you ask of your divine lord?” 

“Don’t tease me. Touch me, please.” 

Sanguine would have gleefully punished her for her comment if she had ever taken the scheming prince up on his offers, but the Hunter moved swiftly when he saw her weakness. His hand slipped down over the curve of her rump to brush between her legs and over her sex, sending lighting down to her toes. “How wet you are, Dragonborn. It is tempting to mount you right now.” 

The way he stroked his fingers between her slick lips and breasts stole the words from her mouth. She wanted to ask him if there was any reason why he wouldn’t sink himself inside her, so she rolled her hips against him in encouragement. 

“Very tempting indeed, but not yet. Obedience from such a strong and noble creature deserves a reward.” Calloused and clawed fingers rubbed gently over her clit in a mirror of the circles he was making over her nipple with his tongue. The symmetry had her gasping for air and arching her back until she nearly ripped out the daedra’s hair. He shifted his hold on her so one hand could reach between their bodies to continue attending her clit while his other hand started probing her entrance with shallow motions. One finger quickly became two, scissoring her open and closed with filthy sounds. 

She shivered as he pressed kisses along the shell of her ear. The continued swirls in and out of her sent pulses through her cunt, inching towards a climax. “Tell me, Dragonborn,” teeth pulled at her earlobe as his fingers moved faster, harder, “what makes you howl?” 

Hircine was what made her howl and keen into the night, trembling as she clenched around his fingers. The daedra had only had her in his arms for moments and she was already undone. 

“I could listen to your cries for ages, little dovah. Feel how hard you make me.” His hand left her quivering sex to grab her own and guide her to reach beneath his loincloth. The way his length twitched underneath her touch sent a sharp pulse through her again, how her fingertips could not touch as they wrapped around him. It would take great effort to force him in between her thighs, but she longed to try. 

“If you truly wish to hear my screams, you will need to take them from me.” She punctuated her words by squeezing his length and was met with urgent thrusts between her fingers. While his touch was certainly pleasurable, something inside her needed him rough and feral. She had been promised the Lord of the Hunt, and she intended to have him. 

Sharp pain radiated across her skull, her head ripped back by his grip in her hair. His golden eyes were suddenly inches from her own, burning from within. Excitement? Magic?

“Is that so?” 

Her tongue swept over her lower lip. It was all the response he needed. 

Still holding her by her hair with one hand, Hircine pushed her out of his arms and down to the grass, flipping her over to her knees. His massive body curled over hers so he could nip and lick at her neck and back while his other hand lifted her ass into the air. Anticipation boiled her core when he released her hair to shift his focus to her hips. 

She did not expect the sharp crack against her ass, so she squealed in response. 

“Not quite a scream, but not unpleasant,” he chuckled behind her. She exclaimed with each new strike to her backside, pleading for his relief. In between each of them, he would smooth his hand over the curve of her rear, telling her how the sight of her on her knees pleased him.

After a dozen smacks, her ass raw and inflamed, she was starting to drip down her thighs, eager to receive him. As he pulled her hips back higher, angling her entrance to the air, she thought he would finally give her what he promised.

Instead, a long tongue pulled along her slit, starting at her twitching clit and ending just before her tight ring. It was like being struck by a spell, making her entire body jolt against the ground. He repeated his motions, painting up and down over her folds, drawing her juices to the surface. His motions altered from teasing her smooth lips apart, weaving circles over her clit, then finally pressing down on her pearl with just the tip of his instrument. Every movement seemed designed to draw more pleasure from her as if he could perfectly read what her body needed from the way her muscles twitched. Soon, the Dragonborn was moaning into the dirt, aching at how slow and steady his strokes were. 

She was certain she would have been dripping down onto the dirt below were it not for the way he lapped up her juices. “So sweet. I will have you in my pack, if only to drink from you every day.” His tongue moved to spear into her entrance, reaching further than the muscle of any man. She started to wonder if he was changing the shape of the organ to achieve the feat. She was certain of the fact when he reached all the way to her cervix, teasing the sensitive nerves there. Twitching in oversensitivity as he circled his tongue around the entrance to her womb, she tried to urge him away. There was another part of her body that was growing increasingly jealous for his tongue, and she was close to begging on its behalf.

Hircine pulled away with a wet sound before giving her backside another excited strike. “Good news, little dovah: I can taste that you are indeed ripe.” Was that what he was doing? “But don’t worry. I see your need. Let me tend to it for you.” She bucked again as his full lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves. Her entire spine flexed, pulled taught by his grip on her pussy. It was as if he was sucking her soul out through her clit, drawing out the molten core that had been pooling low in her belly until it erupted. She came, screaming the daedric prince’s name across the highlands.

“Perfect, my little wildling,” he growled as he pulled his lips away. _His_ little wildling. The possessive praise compounded her ecstasy and she couldn’t stop herself from mewling in response. 

But even as she continued to shiver in the aftershock of her climax, desperate lust enveloped her. All she wanted was to feel him inside her, to be full of hunger, lust, and the hunt made flesh. “Please,” she whimpered, wiggling her hips towards him, “please fuck me.”

She sharply inhaled as she heard leather being torn away and felt his hot length run across the crevice of her ass. 

“Gladly.” Angeling her hips with clawed hands, he slowly rolled his hips against hers until the end of his manhood caught at her entrance. Even with all of his saliva and her slick, he still had to slowly sink in, inch by inch. He was far larger than any man was meant to be. The strain of her lips being pried apart made her toes curl into the soft soil beneath her, but it wasn’t unpleasant: it was as if she was being made whole. He was filling an emptiness she did not realize existed. And when he finally eased into her to the hilt, his sac resting heavy against her sensitive clit, she almost came again. 

Satisfied that she could handle him, Hircine pulled back his length until he was almost withdrawn from her entrance, leaving just the tip inside. The Dragonborn immediately whined, feeling stricken and empty after knowing what it meant to be full of him. He smoothed his hand over her back before pressing in again, savoring every inch. He continued in the same slow and steady manner until she was panting again, begging for him to go faster, to ruin her. 

“Harder,” the word came sputtering between gasps. He responded by digging his claws deeper into the meat of her hips. The low rumble of his voice took on a feral quality, some mortal aspect finally leaching from his chosen form into his divine existence. It was driving her to madness. That, and the way his cock rubbed against the spongy knot of nerves just past her entrance, how his great balls smacked against her slit with every stroke.

White heat burned her from tip to tail, exploding like a fireball as she screamed Hircine’s name into the night. Her muscles clenched and contracted in time with her heartbeat. The sharp difference from his thrusts made her pull unnaturally at his length, drawing out the waves of pleasure. He slowed his own thrusts as she came down from her high, until he pulled out of her. She keened again. True, he had brought her ‘unfathomable pleasure,’ but he hadn’t satisfied her true need.

“I’ve whetted your appetite enough, little dovah. It’s time you service your master.”

The word made her frown as she pushed up to her knees and looked over her shoulder. She had intended to make a biting remark about how she had still not agreed to join his pack, despite their arrangement, but she all but lost the use of her tongue. The Lord of the Hunt was laid out in the grass, propped up on his elbows. In the moonlight and dance of torchbugs, he slowly stroked his length, his eyes trained on her. And those eyes. Even under hooded lids, his irises glowed like a forge, and in them, he hammered away anything that was not profound obedience.

Facing him, she slowly crawled forward, taking in the muscled contours of his legs, stomach, torso. Every part of him was mouth-watering. Without invitation or instruction, she kissed up his leg until she made her way to his inner thigh, sights trained on the pulsing member in his hands. He didn’t remove his hand when she reached her destination, but pressed the tip to her lips, allowing her to lick at the potent mix of her own juices and his precum.

When she tried to take him deeper into her mouth, to take the place of his hands, he sat up, his other hand jerking her away by her hair. “Ask your master.” His voice strained against his mortal form, his mortal desires. Had she not been so enamored with the promise of his words, she would have beamed with pride. How many mortals had managed to have such an effect on Hircine, Daedric Prince?

“May I serve you, Lord Hircine,” she purred from her place between his legs. The glowing orbs rolled back as his grip went from pushing her away to pulling her forward. She needed no urging, greedily taking as much of the prince’s cock into her mouth as she could. A hum rolled from his lips as she sucked at him, letting her tongue run along the underside of his length with every pass. Her hands massaged his thighs and caressed his sac, and she marveled at how firm they felt beneath her fingers. So much like a man, he began to tense and draw against his body, but then, as if he had noticed their ascent, they would pulse and fall back into her cradling hold again. 

Soon, it seemed he was having difficulty regaining control, and he pulled her off of his length and towards his chest. She half expected his vision to be clouded, but instead, his gaze and words were sharp and focused. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Dragonborn. Show me how much you desire my seed inside you.” He placed her legs on either side of his own, bringing his length close to her dripping core again. Slowly, she slid down onto his length again, every inch different than before. Her own weight drove him deeper than before, the fullness pressing against the tender places inside her. She could hardly move without spasming in pleasure, but she forced herself to obey, to ride him. Through fluttering lashes, she caught his canines flashing from his smile before being pried open with a groan. 

His next words came from behind clenched teeth. “That’s it, little dovah.” The sound made her shiver and fall forward, bracing herself on his firm chest. 

Something about the daedric lord was making her respond in ways it had never before. She had been pleasured, certainly, but usually exhaustion or over-sensitivity would claim her. With him, it felt like she could go on endlessly, mating until the end of the Age. But she wasn’t satisfied. 

“Fill me, Lord Hircine. I need you inside me.” She longed to know how it would feel to have him pulsing within, spending himself until she burst at the seams. 

She was jostled forward as he bent his knees to put his feet under them. With his new leverage, Hircine began to thrust up at a maddening pace, growling commands and obscenities she could hardly decipher. She was quickly thrown over the edge, her clit being rubbed brutally against his hips. His hand reaching to her hair, pulling her head aside to expose her neck, was the only warning she received before he sank his teeth into the meat of her collar in time with his release inside her. 

He jerked his hips inside her a few more times, pushing as far as possible until he finally stilled and released his toothy grip. The Dragonborn let herself collapse, having finally received his gift and ready to sleep on top of the giant Hellion of the Hunt. 

The daedra did not seem to share her contented state, rolling until she was pinned under him. Something between a yelp and undignified squawk escaped her, followed by a sharp inhale when he pulled out. His eyes followed the sticky string that ran between her entrance and his surprisingly firm member. She could feel a heavy glob of his spend attempting to escape. As it started to leak out, she watched as he started stroking himself again, his claws tracing her cunt. 

“A good start, but I think you need more.”

“But didn’t you— you know,” she was too frazzled and embarrassed to finish the sentence, favoring a small but rude gesture. She was certain he had; the evidence of their coupling was leaking prominently down her leg. 

His smug expression was unrivaled, and she had suffered Nazeem’s presence more than once in Whiterun. “I am divine; I do not mate like a mortal. I will stay firm and release my seed into you until I no longer wish to do so. Which, given how wonderfully tight you are,” he snaked his finger into her swollen entrance to the knuckle, certainly feeling the way it fluttered in the aftershock of her release, “will not be for some time.” With a come hither motion that had her almost doubling forward, Hircine pulled their mixed fluids out, withdrawing his fingers to admire the viscous mess. A heated look came over his face, mixed with curiosity, but before she could ask he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them in with an obscene groan.

She tried to fight back the swell of arousal the sound brought into her sex. “Well, I am mortal, so I may need some time—“

“You will take me now, little dovah. If you are lacking in stamina, I can remedy that,” he sneered as he places his lips over hers. A surge of energy enveloped her, similar to the feeling of drinking sleeping tree sap. And with the same intoxicating effect. The world spun when he released her lips, only to pull her into his lap. 

Gripping her calves, he wrapped her tightly around his waist, sandwiching his length along the seam of her entrance. “This form does allow for more _creativity_ than I usually have an opportunity to engage in. Best make use of it.” He moved her hips just enough to push him back inside her, sending another thrill through her body. The position wasn’t deep as before, but pinched her clit between his hip and thrusting cock, a marvel all its own. She was certain her praises of the prince could be heard all the way in Markarth. Hopefully, none of the Foresworn sought out her cries, mistaking the coupling as one of the Reachmen’s rituals. 

His hand had woven into her hair again while his tongue cleansed his earlier bite. “I’ll fill you, again and again, little dovah. Not just tonight, but every night until you are round with my child.” Her body shivered at the thought, coiling tighter around him. “Though I imagine the sight of you claimed by me will only serve to make me want your cunt again.”

Even as she climbed another peak, she realized that he spoke of what she truly craved: she wanted him to come undone inside her, to mark her as his mate completely. A laugh escaped her. The Dragonborn has no business settling down, trying to raise a kid, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted one, but she wanted to be his, at least in that moment. Whether that meant she returned to Jorrvaskr to take the Beast Blood as her own, she wasn’t sure, but she did pray for the night to last as long as possible. 

Wet, obscene sounds came from where they joined, his thrusts churning the mess of cum and arousal already inside her. She twined herself like a vine around him, giving way to another climax. With this release he joined her, howling like a wolf into the night as he pushed ropes of white heat into her. As his hips stuttered, he wrapped his arms around her body, cradling her to him. 

“Yes, little dovah; take my seed,” he didn’t bite her, but pressed his mouth over the previous mark, sucking at the stinging wound. She was certain it would scar, adding to her collection. It was nice, for once, to have a pleasant story behind the marred flesh. 

Moments passed, the stillness of their lovemaking finally letting the sounds of night reach her. It was almost ethereal: the glow of torchbugs, moonlight flooding the plains, nocturnal animals engaging in the rites of Spring, and the satisfied hum of her companion. It probably did qualify as ethereal since she was sitting in the lap of one of The Daedric Princes. 

Not a place she should be.

Her attempt to launch herself from Hircine’s lap immediately proved to be unsuccessful. In her panic, she had forgotten how the huntsman’s arms were wound around her waist and in her hair. And unless she was mistaken, he was still as hard as ever in between her thighs. 

“Going somewhere, wildling,” his laughter vibrated into her, shifting his body within her own to send a pleasurable shiver through her belly. A set of claws started running up and down her back, letting her feel their edge, but not piercing the skin. Even though the gesture was a warning, his voice was more playful than malicious. 

“Our dealings are done, are they not?” 

Hircine hummed and tapped his claws along her skin as if considering her words. She hazarded a glance at his face, pensive—perhaps he would release her and move on to pursue another hunt? 

Catching her eye, his slight frown transformed to a wicked grin, and his hands grabbed at her hips before snapping them against his own. “Was I not clear with you? I won’t ‘finish’ for some time.”

”If you’re trying to get me with child,” she gasped at a firm thrust, “you’ve done as much as can be done. I'm certain there are more pressing matters for you to attend to."

Rolling, he brought her back down into the grass hovering over her. His slow motions continued. “Something more enticing than the beautiful Dragonborn? A more worthy hunt than the pleasure of the most powerful creature of Nirn?" He encouraged her legs to wrap around his waist, and her hands to clutch at his back and shoulders. "I want your womb, yes, but only because I have yet to convince you to pledge yourself to my Hunting Grounds. _You_ are the real prize." His face was inches from her own, inhaling her whimpers and moans. 

"You make a great deal of effort for another hound."

His thrusts stilled, and his eyes golden eyes bored into her own. His expression was flint sharp, but not cold. There may have been machinations beyond the comprehension of men in his irises, but there was a warmth, a sense of pride that radiated from them and enveloped her. "I do not seek another hound: you will be my Champion, Dragonborn. You will lead hunts across Nirn and Oblivion in my name. And then, I shall hunt you across those same realms, little dovah, and claim your body and soul as my own." His words rang through her, filling her with fear, respect, and desperate desire.

Her next words were rasped as she moved her hips against him, encouraging his claim. "You'll hunt me?"

Hircine ginned as he began to press her down into the earth, "Until I have caught and claimed you in every conceivable realm."

* * *

“Well met, Dragonborn.”

An impish grin pinched her cheeks as she turned to face him. “Good evening, Lord Hircine.”

Time in the mortal realm was starting to rub off on the daedric prince. He had taken to visiting her in his human form, dressed as a huntsman with only a crown of antlers and his otherworldly good looks to hint at his nature. Each visit during her pregnancy, and all the ones since he had appeared a hint more like a man. He donned light armor with his animal skins when he would surprise her at the Breezehome or Jorrvaskr. He had even started to wear a beard on occasion. If the other Companions suspected the nature of her lover or his affinity with their own Circle, none voiced it. 

Out in the plains of Whiterun, however, he was bare-chested and wild with the very night itself. 

Golden eyes darted around as he approached. “Where is our pup?” Despite his supposed expectation, there was no disappointment in his voice. Sometimes she wanted time with her lover that didn’t involve their bundle of joy, and given the mirth in his eyes, she suspected the daedra felt the same.

“Sleeping, miraculously.” Their hands met in the space between them, calloused fingertips teasing one another.

“You cannot expect my son to sleep while his kingdom stirs, little dovah.”

“Given the nature of his father, I expect nothing but from my son.” The child was a Hellion of the highest order, even though he physically took her likeness. Heidr, she affectionately named the boy, spent every moment running and exploring, keeping her and his odd nursemaids, the Companions, chasing after him. 

The warmth in his features was genuine. “It pleases me that my seed is so strong in him. Chaos and power from his sire and resilience from his mother.” Had she known those two years ago what affection and protectiveness the daedric prince could possess, she would have never questioned their union. 

They each stepped closer to the other until her hands had traveled up his forearms, finding comfort in the familiar hum of magical energy he held under his skin. “I am pleased he is healthy.”

A rough hand cupped her cheek which she eagerly leaned into. His eyes searched hers when they opened, seeking loyalty and devotion he already knew was there. “I am pleased you are healthy. I watched you fell that dovah. Such a strong mortal.” Their lips met. Hircine had become fond of kisses in their time together, always insisting on them whenever possible, even in the company of others. He claimed that he liked the taste of her mouth before he mated with her, but she had begun to suspect that he enjoyed the intimacy, the vulnerability of the act. Their lovemaking was always a little wild and rough, but his kisses were deep and sensual. 

Her fingers were woven behind his neck as they broke their kiss apart, his own hands moving to explore the form of his paramour. “Having the Companions and Lydia to watch him is a blessing,” she sighed.

“I admit, I am somewhat displeased,” one hand had begun to undo her braid, playing with her hair. 

“Displeased? Because I fought one little dragon,” she laughed into his shoulder, enjoying the soft flesh she found there.

Hircine spun her in his grip to hold her back to his chest. His cupped her breasts, teasing at the pebbling buds beneath her dress. “I grieve that you are no longer swollen with my child. You are always desirable, little dovah, but I liked seeing you whelped by my seed. Claimed by me.” His hands fell to her flat stomach as she shivered. 

“Have you not already claimed me for your hunting grounds?” She leaned back against him as his hands began to bunch the fabric of her dress up, revealing her legs. The decision to partake in the beast blood had displeased Kodlak, but when she saw her son in her arms, the choice was made for her. She would never be parted from him, or his father. 

Having gathered her skirt at her waist, Hircine wasted no time reaching for the juncture of her thighs. “Maybe, but I want these mortals to see that you are mine. Perhaps it is time I fill you with my pups again.” She unlaced her corset and fidgeted until he helped pull the garments off of her, temporarily abandoning his task. 

She moaned as his fingers returned to her sex, her body bared to the cool night air and her wild lover. “I think as soon as I defeat the World-Eater, I’ll give you as many as you like.”

“Best do that soon then, mortal. My champion, my mate, belongs at my side, always.”


	3. Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn chooses to resist the daedric prince. She's fought dragons-- she'll be fine!

**“FUS ROH DAH!”**

She was happy to discover that daedric princes weren’t immune to shouts, blowing them apart and her out of his hold. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn had not granted her additional wisdom or sense. Acting on fearful impulse, she had forgotten her surroundings, only concerned with escape. 

The momentum sent her tumbling back into the hot spring with a splash as Hircine was thrown back into a tree. Coughing up water from her lungs, she scrambled for the rocks, heaving herself up to her feet. The air itself seemed to nip and snarl at her ankles. She couldn’t fight him. Maybe Savos Aren would know a way to ward off the prince, but for the time, she could only run. So she did. 

Whirlwind carried her to her horse, but the poor beast’s throat was already being chewed off by a red wolf. Grabbing her sword, she screamed the shout over and over again, blasting through the Reach despite the twigs and rocks digging into her unguarded skin. She screamed Dovahzul until her throat tasted of iron and her bare feet blistered with the first signs of frostbite, collapsing onto the cold highland ground. 

“Did you really think you could outrun me, mortal?” 

Yes. She had desperately prayed to Akatosh that she could. Her legs screamed as she pushed back up to a crouch, sword bared in front of her. 

The shadows materialized around smoldering gold eyes. “And now you are foolish enough to believe you can fight me?” With no horse and little magic, her sword was all she had left. “I have enjoyed hunting you, but it would serve you to admit your defeat.”

Hoping she could delay him long enough to think of a better plan, she refused to lower her sword. Instead, she watched silently, waiting for the daedra to strike.

“No? Well, then; I guess we shall see how unwilling you truly are.”

He lunged faster than any normal man or beast, her attempt to parry him a pathetic resistance. Claws easily slipped down the length of the blade to catch the hilt, sending it skidding across the ground and out of reach. She tried to spin and lunge for where she thought it might be, lost in the darkness of night, but an arm caught her at the waist, sending her tumbling to the ground. 

“Yield, mortal. You have been bested and you will be claimed,” he struggled to capture her flailing limbs, pushing her down into the dirt. Adrenaline spiked her movements, letting her land a kick squarely to his midsection, but it felt as if she had connected with a stone wall. He paid the assault no mind, focused on gathering her wrists in one hand while he straddled her hips. Her face was buried down into the dirt, defeated, even as she sputtered curses at the creature above her. 

She squirmed as he ran his tongue along her neck and up the shell of her ear. “Much better. Now we can begin.” From the corner of her eyes, she watched him dig his claws into the earth. The ground beneath her vibrated in response until it began to split open with dried roots and matted grass. “You see, little dovah, you cannot win against me, for I can bend the very land to my will.”

The vines circled her limbs in place of his hands, restraining all but the shivers of her body. The Dragonborn was snared like a rabbit. She was nothing but prey to the creature above her.

“Get off me, creature!” Raspy, swollen screams were her only remaining means of resistance, both to him and the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. 

His claws dug into her hips, pulling her back against his swollen member. “Continue to fight if you wish, mortal. It only shows how you are meant to bear my pups.” The phallus he dragged upon her slit seemed uncertain of its shape, shifting against her skin, but unmistakably large. Her stomach curdled. 

“I will purge anything you force on me, monster.” If only she could spit in his face. 

The vines, an extension of Hircine's will, allowed him to pull her up her knees, against his back. “Then I will simply have to put you in your place again.” Sharp bone bit into her skin just above where his teeth worked into the muscle of her shoulder. In perfect contrast, he gently kneaded her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they pebbled. 

After giving her neck a final nip, he rose to his feet, circling his prey. “But I think I will have to punish you for your wicked tongue. No mortal should dare to talk back to a divine,” his laughter was cruel as he brought himself to her line of sight. 

He had decided on his form in some regards. His cock favored a man’s in shape, but was too thick for comfort; the tumescent glans peeked over his foreskin, bobbing inches from her face with menace. 

“Serve me, Dragonborn. Get me slick so I can fit into that tight cunt of yours.” He probably would have been sneering, if he had a human face. But when she looked up, his bone mask was gone, and in its place was the head of a stag, nostrils flared and a mouth of monstrous and unnatural teeth. His clawed hand dug into the thin skin of her scalp, forcing her closer. “Come now,” his voice had enough fury to make her roll over and expose her belly in the middle of battle, so she quickly pressed her lips to his length.

The groan he made was not the needy, pleasured sound of her former lovers, but self-satisfied and humored. “What a lovely sight: the mighty Dragonborn, strongest of mortals, suckling at my cock like a pup on its mother’s teat. Don’t worry, pup,” he pushed her down to choke on him as his free hand slapped at her cheek sharply enough that he could likely feel it against his length, “I’ll feed you plenty of milk.”

She fought back a sob, desperate for air and freedom, which he gave only with more cruel laughter. Although she wished to fall to the ground and heave out the contents of her stomach, the vines held tight. After a few desperate gulps of air, he forced himself back inside, her lips cracking at the corners. There was no restraint in his thrusts; he fucked her mouth as if he believed he could whelp her that way. Perhaps he could. Bile heaved up from her gullet, catching in her nose when he gave her no room to swallow or breathe. Worse still, the ruthless way he used her made her throb between her thighs.

His claws punctured the soft flesh of her face and scalp where he gripped her on either side, fucking her mouth faster and faster until he groaned, pushing himself as far as possible into her. She could feel his length slip down into her throat, cutting off her hair. As her face grew purple, he spent down the back of her throat, his one mercy. Or so she assumed until he began to pull back, still pumping hot, bitter cum across her tongue and lips. 

“Don’t swallow your milk yet, pup. I want to see how much your pretty mouth can hold,” he growled, dragging his pulsing member across her face. “Open.”

She couldn’t look at him as she obeyed, letting him watch the volume of sticky spend settle across her tongue. “Good little dovah. Now, you may swallow,” he tapped the bottom of her chin closed. She obeyed again, taking grateful breaths as she pushed her mouth and airways clear. Perhaps he would be satisfied with just humiliating her. 

“Such a good pup. You deserve a reward.” His hand grabbed at the edge of his furred neck and seemed to reach underneath. Yes, she watched as he pulled the fur up and away, peeling back the stag head to reveal what she assumed hid behind his usual mask of bone. Gone were the beastly limbs. His form belonged to the half breed of Bosmer and Nord, but more striking and larger than either. Every Deadra she met, from the lowest dremora to the princes themselves, seemed to insist on intimidating in their corporeal form. As if their very existence wasn’t threatening enough.

She had hardly noticed she was gaping until he pulled her chin close to his golden gaze. In a surprisingly human manner, his pupils were blown, leaving his irises to form bright coronas. “Such comely prey deserves a handsome  _ stag _ , do you not?” Soft and full lips captured her own, his tongue sneaking past her teeth in her shock. His hand, less beastly, swept up her hair into a tight hold as he pulled her body to his, the binds letting her move into his arms. 

Regaining her senses, she moved to bite down on his tongue but found that he had moved on to nipping at her neck, his hands palming her breasts. Tremors erupted from where he gently sucked at the base of her neck. His thumbs started to pinch and roll her nipples, shooting sensation and arousal to her belly. Having formed expansive marks on her neck, Hircine brought his sinful mouth down to join his hands. His tongue teased over her breasts as his hands continued to knead them. When he started to suckle at the tender buds, she couldn’t contain the moan he provoked. 

Her treasonous body started to throb and drip between her thighs, which drew the daedra’s attention. 

“Yes. That aroma, little dovah. That is the smell I have been tracking,” The system of roots pushed her up, the binds pulling her limbs out so she was sprawled before him. He hovered before her sex, taking in the smells and sights. “And its source is a lovely cunt, wet for her master.” His fingers traced along her folds, the gentle touch making her shiver. He pulled her lips apart, pushed them together, then massaged the sensitive flesh between. “Such tender meat on this prey. Time to eat.”

The Dragonborn’s heart raced beneath her ribs, churned her blood into a rabid froth within. Would he actually eat her? Gnaw off her sex in perverse punishment? She braced herself for his teeth, the binds taking her ability to shield herself. 

Air fled her lungs as the daedra pressed a deep open-mouthed kiss to her sex. His full lips suckled at her counterparts, giving each side special attention. He pulled the broad flat of his tongue over her center, starting at the bottom of her opening, barely curling in to taste her, then ending with a firm pull of her clit. The muscles of her stomach and inner thighs pulsed in response. Cream began to pool at her opening, eager to quench the divine’s thirst. He rewarded her body’s betrayal with languorous and audible laps of his tongue. 

The moonlight glistened in the shine on his lips when he pulled his mouth away, leaving her body to tremble just at the precipice. He was covered in her juices. “A delicacy indeed, little dovah. I may impress you into my service just so I can have my wine served in your cunt.” He replaced his thumb over her aching clit, grinding the broad digit in circles as she ground her teeth and bucked. With his other hand, he started to stroke his thick cock, using her slick to make himself wet again. 

“I swear the first thing I’ll do when I get away from you is pledge my soul to the service of Ebonarm,” she sputtered. Her anger was her only defense against the imminent climax he was forcing on her. His movements were so deliciously precise in execution, she bit the inside of her cheek raw to overwhelm his pleasure with pain.

The daedric prince scoffed at his enemy’s name but didn’t retaliate, instead keeping a steady hand at her sex as he pulled her thighs over his own. “What a waste that would be. No, you aren’t meant for swords and shields. You should be hunting worthy prey or spreading your legs for those who manage to hunt you,” her humiliation should not have been so enticing, but her body responded all the same, making her hips hitch into his touch. He moved closer, letting her feel his hot breath on her cheeks, smell the unnatural mix of spruce, galax, musk, and _sex_ that curled off of him like incense. 

The odor, the drug that was his pheromones distracted her, letting him slowly bring his erection to sit between them. Only when the head of the organ rubbed against her sensitive nub did she surface above the haze he created. “Don’t,” her pleas were becoming raw on her tongue as she fought back tears. “I’ll rip out my womb before I give birth to some daedric half-breed.” She tried to thrash against the binds, but they refused to yield. All her motions resulted in were blisters and welts across her skin.

“No, you won’t.” 

He breached her with a sharp thrust, the shock of his girth forcing out a gasp. Even dripping with his spit, the movement seared and pinched the thin skin of her entrance. Worse, his first thrust had only allowed the head in, a failure he aimed to remedy. He barely withdrew before slamming their hips together again and again and again, splitting her open.

“Such lovely sounds you mortals make when mating.” She had hardly registered the cries that filled the hills were her own when he had fully sheathed himself inside her. The intensity between her legs was too great for any other thought to register. “Scream for me again,” he hummed above her, grinding her down into his lap. 

Perhaps it was the seductive quality of his voice, or how his length easily teased at all the sensitive places inside her, but pleasure slowly began to overtake the pain of his size. Slick sounds filled the space between her protests which gave way to moans. She hated herself for feeling pleasure, but it was impossible to pretend otherwise when Hircine flipped her off and on to her knees, reaching entirely new angles. Then he was pulling at her breasts, the sharp tugs made her seize and whimper, arousal dripping down her leg to soak the ground beneath them. 

The calloused pads of his fingers wandered down her belly, skimming across her skin until he reached her mound. Her hips jerked as soon as he made contact with her swollen nub. “I told you I would please you, little dovah. I can feel how your cunt aches to release,” He traced his tongue up the length of her jugular before nibbling on her earlobe. “Give in,” the primeval rumble of his command had her pressing her ass into his thrust, keening out of her mind. 

“I can’t—” Whatever protest she intended died beneath a crushing grip on her throat and relentless tugs of her clit. Useless gasps for air became breathless sobs, her vision soon tunneling. Panic drove her heart and muscles to spasm, but her cunt translated the fear as thrill and gushed fresh slick along the invading cock. When she was certain she would lose consciousness, her airway was released and weightless euphoria flooded her body with her first full breath. 

Hircine's fingers continued to strum across her clit as she cried out, an instrument of flesh. He pounded her through her orgasm, choking her on and off with his other hand. The tenuous flow of oxygen to her brain kept her tipping between fear and pleasure, drawing out her climax. She was certain she would suffocate if he continued, but a small voice in her mind begged for the reprieve. Begged for his viciousness. 

Pathetic pleas tumbled from her lips. Blood pumped into her sex, making it tender and sensitive to his ruthless touch. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. Everything was too much and not enough as she danced on the edge of another orgasm. When the world around her began to fog and fade, she fumbled for his wrist in an unspoken appeal, but his firm grip ignored hers.

“Come for me again. Let me sow you,” the daedra pulled her up to her knees, keeping her flat against his chest. The change in angle had his length jostling the perfect spot inside her in compliment to the increasing speed of his fingers. In a brief moment of clarity between thrusts, she wondered if he ever tired. He sped his hips to a ferocious and erratic pace, chasing his own pleasure, and before she could beg him to slow down, her body exploded with white heat. 

She wasn't certain if he called her name, but the sound the daedra made filled the air with heat and fury and it seemed to call to her soul as his cock began to pulse inside her. The call wasn’t in a human tongue, but wild and ancient. In her bones, she could feel that he had just announced to all of Nirn and Oblivion that he was emptying his balls into her. 

Hircine had hunted, mounted, and claimed her. 

The swollen lips of her sex were tight enough around his length to try and pull him back in as he withdrew, making a squelching sound when their skin separated. A trail of cum formed between them. He pulled her folds apart, watching with a salacious grin as the stream of white began to ooze out. “Now there, little dovah, is the first step towards the creation of my greatest squire. With Akatosh’s blessing of your body and my seed, you will give me an ethereal litter, I’m certain,” he scooped up the mess with his fingers and started shoving it back inside her, lazily fucking her with his fingers.

_ Ethereal _ . How had she not thought of that before?

**“FEIM!”** Her body slipped into the place between Nirn and Oblivion, the binds on her limbs suddenly moot. She was running as soon as her body shifted. The shout’s effects wouldn’t last long, but it would give her a head start into the woods, and from there, she would make it to the Shrine of Peryite. Hircine would not risk engaging her there, as it would certainly summon the other wicked prince. If push came to shove, she would invoke the name of the diseased serpent to ensure such a meeting if it would keep her away from the huntsman. The other prince would likely be giddy for the chance to steal her away so shortly after Hircine had announced his claim.

The shout had baffled Hircine, who howled in her wake, but she didn’t dare look back to determine if he had spotted her. Making it past the tree line by the time the shout’s effects ended, she continued to run. Once she was able, she shouted again, letting desperation take her to the shrine. 

“How cunning you are, little dovah!” His body hurled into hers and plowed her into the ground, even as her form wavered like a haze in her own eyes. Pinning her to the ground, he beamed down from his position above her. “I knew you would be a worthy hunt. Changing to an ethereal form was very clever,” his eyes were dark but pinched with delight, “but not very effective when the hunter can also walk in the unknown plane.” He nipped at her ears and neck in a twisted expression of affection.

“No,” the smallest sob escaped.

She could feel his smile at her cheek, followed by the insult of a soft kiss. “Yes, pup. You are so worthy of my favor, my attention, my seed. More than any mortal before you.” 

All of her revulsion was pushed aside by a strange sense of pride. There was no reason for him to give her accolades, to try and seduce her— he had made it clear he was having his way with her whether she liked it or not— so there was no reason for him to shower her in his sick praise. Did he really consider her so special? She felt herself surrendering to the huntsman's words, but damn her if she wasn’t going to fight against his body until her own broke.

Her skull smacked against his, knocking stars into her eyes. Hircine pulled back with a slight sneer, uninjured even as her head swam. “Well, if you find me so detestable,” he pulled her wrists into his massive hand, “perhaps you would enjoy my attention in another form?”

The cocksure hum of his voice shifted to a deep, rolling growl. Moonlight cascaded through the gaps in the trees down over his form, swelling, shifting, burning. The hunter vanished beneath the thick, dark fur of the Father of Manbeasts. 

The daedric prince had towered over her in the form of the hunter, but as a beast he enveloped the world around her. His size was comparable to a troll, broad, staggering, with elongated limbs and bulging torso. Worse, she knew immediately Hircine was just as keen to stake his claim of her body in his new form. A monstrous erection pushed out from the mat of fur between his legs; red, slick, and tapered, with a swollen lump at the base. A knot.

She swore.

“Now, before I forget,” his voice was unchanged, almost more fitting with his wolfish shape, “let’s take care of that throat of yours.” His furred and clawed hand fully encompasses her neck, and she felt his grip brand her with ancient magic. “There. Now you can scream and shout all you like without fear of any dovah magic,” his words rang true as he released his grip, “and I will make you scream, pup.”

Satisfied, he flipped her over on her hands and knees again, the roots of the trees pinning her in such a way that her face was forced into the decaying forest floor. One paw slipped under her to start tracing along the lines of her sex once more. “What happened to the fruits of my efforts, little dovah? You were making such sweet honey for me before,” the fur of his chest brushed along her back as he nuzzled his maw against her hair. With the way he sighed, she could imagine him rolling up his sleeves, like a parent about the throw his filthy child into the washtub. “I suppose I shall begin again.” His muzzle moved down to her sex and he began lapping fervently at her. It was a departure from his earlier attention: the tongue that pulled along her entrance was long and rough, nubile compared to his human appendage. It moved much faster than its human counterpart. His tongue never seemed to tire, lapping along her as easily as if he were drinking from a stream. There was no fighting the climax that quickly washed over her.

An ear-piercing wail pushed past her lips, her body overtaken by both pleasure and despair. She was a bow, pulled taut by his cruelty, his humiliation, and then released by his passion to perfectly strike his intended target. Cum gushed from her folds down his snout, making the beast rumble in delight. He continued to lap at her sex until every drop of her release was replaced by his own saliva, but his appetite wasn’t satiated. He plunged his tongue inside her, wringing on itself to scrape up any remaining pleasure from her clenching walls inside. The unique sensation had pleasures all their own, different from either fingers or cock. The Dragonborn could feel another orgasm rising from within her, bringing with it another wave of self-loathing. 

Before she was pushed over the edge, however, he pulled back, leaving her squirming for release despite herself. “Don’t worry, pup, I’ll give you what you need.” The tapered head of his alien member brushed along her folds.

Horror flushed her veins cold. “No! It won’t fit! It won’t fucking fit!” She groaned and tried to pull her hips away, but the roots held her steady. 

“I’ll make it fit,” his snarl was followed by what felt like a battering ram to her gut. For all intents and purposes, she supposed it was. If taking his human cock had split her open, his canid appendage ripped her in two. The first few inches felt raw despite the mess of drool and cum that continued to leak out of her. He didn’t let her adjust, instead snapping his hips viciously until she was certain she couldn't take anymore. There was no space left inside to accommodate him, she was certain, but the wolf disagreed, thrusting until she felt the knot pressing against her opening.

Over her shoulder, his flaming eyes peered down his snout to where they joined. Light bounced off his exposed fangs that were bared in satisfaction. Trying to keep her face above the trodden ground, to protect the last remnants of her dignity, she buried her fingers in the dirt, staking herself to the ground so his thrusts didn’t barrel her over. He fucked like a mutt, reckless and rapid, only interested in getting his cum as deep into her womb as possible. His fur pulled across her backside and his claws dug into the tops of her backside. She half expected him to close his jaws around her shoulder. 

Once, in the winding streets of Solitude, she had seen a pair of dogs mate while she was negotiating the price of a spell tome for Urag gro-Shub. She had chuckled at how the shopwoman panicked as she tried to shoo them away, only to discover that they were tied, the female dragging the male behind her as it skittered off. "A strong woman takes her man how she pleases." She wondered what divines were reveling in the irony. Her strength wouldn't matter if she was tied by Hircine. Would she be tied?

Perhaps it was the raw and sticky flesh of his alien length, or the unbearable size and _weight_ of it, but the sensation of his thrusts was incredible. His knot bounced along her clit with steady pleasure, followed by the sharp slap of his balls. _Man and mer will never compare to this beast._ Her hindbrain panted at the term and wished she could watch the monstrous cock violate her. Shame immediately followed with a choking panic. How could she enjoy such a thing? 

“I want to see your comely face when I knot you, mortal.” He withdrew, his length slapping wet against her thighs. She bit her lip to keep from whining at the emptiness. Hircine flipped her on to her back, pushing her arms to lie straight above her head, her legs spread wide. The position granted her an unobstructed view of the monster, how his fur didn't cover his whole form, letting the muscles of his stomach and chest flex under dark flesh. His hands were massive, encircling her thighs as he manipulated her as he wished, and his hips had an enviable v-shape that framed his beastly cock. 

Realizing that he was no longer inside her, she attempted again to close her legs. Her pride valiantly fought against her worst impulses, ignoring how she was more aroused than ever.

The daedric prince grew impatient with her. “You continue to resist your master’s gift,” his teeth made an audible snap in the air above her face. The binds of roots wrapped around her thighs tight enough to threaten her circulation, and they pulled her so wide she worried her hip would dislocate. One hand fondled her breast while the other lined him up with her entrance again. "I'll no longer tolerate your impudence, mortal. Time to give in." He slowly pushed himself inside, keeping his eyes locked with hers as she shivered around every inch.

His intentions were clear from his movement. He was done with simply fucking her.  She could feel the heavy lump forcing itself into her. Every thrust it inched deeper and deeper, prying her apart, no matter how tight she clenched or tried to force it out. The way it stretched her pushed her clit up and out, exposing the bud to the sinful brush of his fur. Even though the stretch brought searing pain, the fullness was undeniably pleasurable. She could feel herself approaching climax, whether she wanted it or not. 

“You will take my knot, mortal. And when it catches inside you, you will come around it. Not a drop of your master’s seed will leave your cunt.” His thrusts grew impossibly harder, threatening to shatter her bones, plunging the unnatural appendage into her. By and by, her entrance gave way and he filled her with a sick pop.

And then he ripped it out.

Her entire body convulsed at the strain, the sudden emptiness. Even though he had defeated her, forced her to take his monstrous gland, he wasn’t satisfied. He pressed his hips into hers again, making sure her cunt swallowed him to the base of his canid cock, ground their hips together, then ruthlessly pulled out again with a growl. Each time she begged for him to stop, to leave it inside, or not force it in, and each time he ignored her. Until the fifth such stroke when he could no longer tear away: he had swollen inside of her to the point of no return. 

“Much better, pup. Now, come for me.” His thrusts were shallow and quick, forcing his knot to massage the bundle of spongy nerves just inside her inner walls. Coupled with his thumb pressing into her sensitive clit, she couldn’t fight off her orgasm any longer. Lighting and dark magic surged through her, a maelstrom of pain and pleasure. She quaked and her hips thrashed against him as she begged the daedric lord for some unknown relief.

“Mmmmm, such a good little dovah, coming for her master,” he gave her a low growl, fucking her through her release. “So perfectly tight and ready for my seed.” His voice had an almost human vulnerability, need and hunger, reflected in his panting form above her. Without warning, she felt him begin to swell inside her. Somehow, the lump inside her was still growing, going beyond her limits. She was certain he would tear her open, but instead, she felt intense pleasure as his knot grew, making the flesh around her entrance and mound bulge from the strain. The feeling of endless ropes of hot spend pulsing into her cunt was like a spell. Unlike the white heat of her previous orgasms, cosmic technicolor flooded her senses. Her body vibrated, filled with a sense of purpose and connection to the world around her, the simplicity that the beast inside her was breeding her like a bitch in heat. She came, screaming at the two moons above.

“You are _**mine**_ ,” he rasped into her ear as she returned to her body.

He seemed to pump cum into her for minutes, hours, days. It was endless. She was certain her lower belly had started to distend from the volume of it. There was no way he hadn’t whelped her. Perhaps he had the same thought, as the daedra began nuzzling her neck, licking away her tears, the restraints of the earth leaving her skin to be breath and bruise. At some point, the roots that had bound her had receded back into the soil, leaving her bound only by his form above her. 

She wanted to kick and scream when he rolled over onto his back, draping her over his chest as he continued to empty into her, but she was exhausted. The Dragonborn collapsed, ignoring the gentle way his massive beast arms wrapped around her. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to pretend to be affectionate after raping her, hunting her so cruelly.

Ignorant of her distaste, the werewolf pawed circles at her flesh, whispering how pleased he was, how perfect a mate she was. The small voice returned, basking in his praise. She  _ was _ a perfect mate. She did belong on her hands and knees for her master. She would take his cock again and again until she gave him a pack of children. It was the last thought that caught her like a snare. 

She thrashed against him, hoping to slip through his relaxed grasp, but she had forgotten how they were physically bound to each other by the massive bulge within her. And she was exhausted. As she tried to push away, her sex burned, threatening to tear open. Her eyes rolled back in pain, and she almost collapsed from the strain. He, it seemed, was not handicapped by such limitations. 

“Going somewhere, wildling?” His claws tore down her back, opening shallow crevices of meat along her skin. “Such an ungrateful wretch. I pleasure you unlike any creature can, give you gentleness you do not deserve, and you still defy me?” His words blew through her mind like a tornado, screeching as the words forced her down into submission. “Or is that what pains you so? Knowing that being claimed by a beast is what your body craves, like some filthy whore?” His smug laughter rattled her mind with the crackle of a hyena. Worse, the degradation seemed to call to the awful small voice deep inside, making her clench around the knot again. 

His snort ruffled her hair. “Good news then, mortal. From now on, you shall be your Master’s bitch. I shall have my hounds hunt and breed you every blood moon and give you all the beast your body craves.” His hounds? Images of Farkas and Vilkas clawed forth from her subconscious, sandwiching her body between their massive forms, nipping and licking at her as they fought to see whose seed would plant itself inside her over-stretched hole. Jorrvaskr would never be a safe haven again if Hircine could help it. Were there other packs she would have to hide from?

She braced herself against his chest and tried to push out the massive knot that tied them together, but no matter how hard she pushed, how much might she focused to force him out through her opening, it continued to lodge itself further in. “Just let me go,” she beat her fists against this chest before covering her face with her hands in defeat. “You’ve done what you wished. Just let go and I swear I will not harm whatever spawn you’ve given me. Besides, certainly, you’ve exerted yourself?” 

If a wolf could sneer, she was certain that would be his expression as he started rocking her hips back and forth along his knot. “I am no mortal. I do not mate like a mortal. I will stay firm and release my seed into you until I no longer wish to do so. Which, given how wonderfully tight you are, will not be for some time.”

A terrible thought broke through the rising pleasure in her hips: Molag Bal would rape women to transform them into vampires. Hircine was said to have once transformed a family into trolls if ledged were to be believed. “Am I a beast now?” 

Another snort moved across her as he continued to grind her body around his knot. “No, little dovah. Akatosh’s fate for you means I cannot take you as I wish. No, you must accept my blessing of your own will.” He was hardly paying attention to her words, focused on thumbing at her breasts again. The smallest flare of hope came to life inside her. He might take her body by force, but he could not take her soul. 

His low chuckle vibrated the body beneath her. Hircine seemed to sense the resurgence of her spirit, his beastly mouth pulling into a cruel expression. Wrapping his arms around her waist and under her ass, he lifted himself from the ground. “But for now, I will take you to the Hunting Grounds where you shall stay until you birth my squire. Then you will choose to become one of my hounds by your own power.” The air around them began to hum, the forest began to fade, and with it, her hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably go back and edit these after I crunch out my final papers. In the meantime, thank you for reading my terrible rapey werewolf/god smut. Please let me know your thoughts and if I have traumatized you!
> 
> Love you! Mean it!


End file.
